Rem said that HOSCO was responsible for the shipments.
‘What I don’t understand is how you ever got involved.’ Pakosta’s expression turned pinched and nasty. ‘Santo says you have a friend. Someone in HOSCO. Why don’t you ask him some of these questions, because you won’t want any of us talking with him.’
‘What happened in Bahrain?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Why did Clark attack you?’
‘Because he has issues.’ Pakosta stood up and complained as he slipped down the hill that nothing could be done around here without it becoming some kind of complicated ass-fucking. At the bottom of the dune Pakosta shouted up.
‘Tomorrow, you’re going to thank me. I’ve sorted everything out. If we’d left it to you we’d be in the same shit as those sorry-assed fucks at Camp Bravo. I’m changing the landscape, Rem. Tomorrow.’
* * *
Rem woke Clark up. Knocked on the door and walked in.
‘I need to know what this is all about. Someone needs to talk to me.’
Clark sat up, addled. Rem switched on the light. Across the room in tidy piles were drawings, sketches of the burn pits.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You punched Pakosta in the mouth. You assaulted him. Everyone saw it.’
Clark looked down at his feet, considering.
‘So what did you fight about?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why did you go for Pakosta?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘So why did you volunteer to go with Pakosta to Amrah tomorrow.’
‘To keep an eye on him.’
‘And why would you need to do that?’
‘Because it’s something I want to do.’
‘What’s happening tomorrow?’
Clark shook his head. ‘Just leave it, Rem. What you don’t know can’t hurt you.’
* * *
On the way to his room Rem saw Chimeno out by the Quonset. When he walked toward him Chimeno signalled that they should go inside.
Chimeno immediately began to talk about the trip.
It wasn’t like any of them had wanted to go, but once they were on their way they were up for it. Howell had booked himself one big suite, the others had rooms on the floor underneath, except Sutler and Kiprowski, who were on the other side of the hotel, and he didn’t see much of either of them. Sutler and Kiprowski didn’t have to wear uniforms either.
The hotel was made out like a palace. Howell’s room had a foyer with an actual fountain in the middle. All over there were pictures of this one guy in Arab dress. Completely over the top. The second floor wasn’t even finished, and the pool was this massive thing, lit up at night. The whole place was over the top, although it wasn’t like there was a Motel 8 round the corner, or any other choice, just this palace smack in the middle of the desert. The security also was over the top.
He’d never seen a place so large in his life.
Chimeno said he had trouble sleeping. The room was too big, and he could hear this couple, you know, above. The room, nice as it was, caught everything. The front was glass, pretty much, a window and a balcony, so he heard every little detail. First off it was just the physical sounds, the man’s effort, and later instructions, it was hard to tell how many people were in the room. At two o’clock the noise quietened down but started up again at around three, and when it turned bad, shouting, he got dressed and went down to the pool.
‘I found Clark by the pool. He looked a mess, his shirt all over the place, like he’d been drinking. He’d been up in Howell’s room with the others.’
Chimeno stopped talking. Rem asked him to continue, it didn’t matter what he had to say.
‘The thing is, the noise I could hear, it was Santo and everyone, and they were having a party with a girl laid on by Howell.’
‘Where was Howell?’
‘That’s the thing. The noise came from Howell’s room, right above mine.’
‘Was he at this party?’
‘I don’t know. I’d guess so. In the morning I went up and changed and got ready. The others, when they came out, didn’t say anything. But they looked bad, all of them.’ Chimeno became anxious. ‘I wasn’t anything to do with this. I only heard stuff, I wasn’t in the room.’
‘So what was the fight about between Clark and Pakosta?’
‘Someone sent him an SMS, and it had a link. Someone had taken a video.’
‘And what was it?’
‘Pakosta and a woman.’
* * *
The flight left early. Running out across the sand Pakosta held on to his helmet, wincing into the blast.
Rem, who hadn’t slept much, asked Pakosta how his tooth was, and buckling up his harness Pakosta said what tooth.
‘I want to speak with you when you get back.’
Kiprowski slipped out from behind him and climbed into the helicopter, a backpack in his fist. He sat on the far side and did not speak as he sorted out the straps. Sutler also appeared stern, unhappy, not quite his usual self.
Rem ran back to the Quonset and watched the helicopter rise then veer sideways above the Beach.
* * *
Geezler’s response came just as she was preparing to leave.
Dear Cathy Gunnersen,
We would like to thank you for your communication with the Advisor to the Division Chief, Europe, Paul Geezler. We have consulted with Mr. Geezler who is unfortunately not available to meet you in Detroit this weekend, and who has no knowledge of meeting or working with your husband.
If we can further assist you in this matter, please contact our employment services and HE division based in Cleveland, particularly Sue Williams, Overseas Personnel Director.
Sincerely,
M. Waites for Paul Geezler, Advisor to the Division Chief, Europe, for HOSCO International.
Cathy sat on her own at the taqueria. It wasn’t usual, she thought, for a woman to eat on her own, and she came here often enough. The only other women were girls who stopped briefly to flirt with the cook or the boys waiting tables, or family friends, who in any case always took their food with them. She wondered if she made them uncomfortable.
Geezler’s email was what she’d expected, more or less. As far as Rem had explained the man was working independently anyhow, and she should have contacted him some other way. She noted that the notice listing his participation in the conference had been taken off-line.
A woman watched her from the doorway, and it took Cathy a while to recognize her as Roscoe’s aunt. The woman scowled at her through the glass, but wasn’t bold enough to come inside. Cathy finished her meal, took a while to wipe her fingers on a napkin, and thought, whatever this was, she could really do without it.
The woman came at her with surprising speed, so fast that Cathy backed off, arms up for protection.
‘You stay away from him. You’re disgusting. How old are you? What do you want with him? He’s a boy. You come anywhere near him and I’ll call the police. You hear me.’
Cathy froze in place. The woman bowed, wheezed, the energy required suddenly spent. Then, without warning, she took out a container and threw the contents over her.
* * *
Nut jumped as Cathy came into the apartment. Cathy kicked the door closed and clawed to get out of her clothes. It was urine, she was sure of it, the woman had thrown urine over her, and most of it had hit her blouse, although some, she was certain, was in her hair. Cathy stripped in the entrance then ran to the bathroom and stood in the shower. Appalled by what had just happened.